THESE TIMES

Take care of your obituary while you can

Kirk Ericson | Nov 16, 20230

“To the earth you are scattered

You’re going home, so what does it matter?

To an atomic mind

Scattered here while you travel time.”

— The Kinks, “Scattered”

My 64th orbit of the sun will be complete in a couple of weeks, and one thing that amazes me about this accretion of years is how slow it’s gone. I would have thought I’d be 100 by now.

In the interest of taking stock from this vast vista, and sparing my survivors the burden of busy work, here’s my sanctioned obit:

Kirk Ericson

Kirk Ericson, (fill in age), of Olympia died (fill in date) at Mason General Hospital after waging an apathetic battle against injuries suffered in a Costco shopping cart collision. (Note: Or being struck in the head by a meteorite.)

At his death, he was surrounded by his wife and two sons, who are left to contemplate life without their beacon, their compass, their reason for drawing breath. Kirk urges them to carry on, no matter how steep the hill, and to look forward to the time when they’ll all be reunited on the other side of this musty veil. Or not.

Kirk was born Dec. 5, 1959, in Spokane, Wash., the youngest child of Donald and Beve Ericson. It was in Spokane that Kirk developed affections for burning out stumps with gasoline, shooting free throws, reading, ping-pong, the Kinks and throwing rocks at the yellow heads of sunflower plants. Kirk attended elementary and high school in Spokane.

At age 13, he started his own worm business, which gave him the experience necessary to avoid any entrepreneurial endeavors in the future. Kirk once did a good deed for somebody at age 28, but modesty prevented him from providing details. Kirk’s humility was clear to all who met him.

Kirk graduated non cum laude from Western Washington University in Bellingham with a degree in journalism, which turned out to be a smart move because newspaper jobs were the only jobs he wasn’t inept at. He worked at several newspapers until being hired at The Olympian in the 20th century. In the 21st century, he worked for the Shelton-Mason County Journal, The News Tribune in Tacoma and The Seattle Times.

One thing about Kirk, he didn’t abandon the Titanic.

It was on the fourth floor of the House Office Building in Olympia that Kirk met his wife, Catherine Young, who was not his wife when they met, but became his wife subsequent to them meeting. Catherine and Kirk had two children, Alexander and Ryan, who were the joys of their lives when they weren’t the bane of their existence.

Kirk never used the word “party” as a verb. He once made 97 out of 100 free throws. He once did a flying tiger roll over a bonfire and once went to a doctor after doing a flying tiger roll over a bonfire. He ended several disagreements and started several arguments. Kirk studied kung fu and ballet, knew how to say, “See you later” in Korean, saw the northern lights in Skagway, Alaska, touched the 1984 Olympic torch, never said “been there, done that,” saw two humans enter the world and forgot his wedding anniversary just once. He loved anything that made him laugh and hated litter, liars and fake people.

He tried to live his life by this creed: “You don’t get a second chance to make a final impression.”

Kirk’s last words — “ouch, ouch” — summed up his approach to life and to the people he loved and liked. That one word, repeated twice, capture the essence of the man.

At Kirk’s request, his memorial shall be an Irish wake, complete with keening, poetry, music and sobriety.